The Hobbit One-Shots
by StripedHatter
Summary: A collection of drabbles, containing Bagginshield, Kiliel, angst, OCs, exceeding adoration for Fili, Bofur, Bard, Thranduil, and many others. Will be based on movies and book, just depending. Mostly fluff. Enjoy!
1. I missed you - Bagginshield

"I've no time for company; I'm very, very busy!"

The knock came again, this time accompanied by a voice:

"Too busy for me?"

Bilbo froze where he was, immediately alert. The voice was honey to his ears- if honey set you on edge in the best kind of way, with dragons soaring through your stomach and your heart thrumming as it beat a million times a minute.

"Uh- I- one second!"

He closed the book and set it on the mantle, and tried not to run to the door. He attempted to compose himself, but couldn't suppress the giant smile that had now stamped itself onto his face. He opened the door and there he was.

"Thorin!" He exclaimed, and in a mutual movement, the two embraced. Bilbo relished in the warmth of Thorin, from the furs lining the dwarf's jacket to the smell of embers and smoke that always seemed to trail around Thorin. Bilbo stayed in the embrace just a moment longer than necessary, and then parted. "I just put on a fresh pot of tea- would you like some? Or I have ale in the pantry, if-"

"Bilbo," Thorin interrupted, smiling fondly at the hobbit, "Tea is fine."

Bilbo grinned, looking at Thorin's face for a moment, and then finally snapped himself out of it and entered the house, letting Thorin in as well. Bilbo crossed to his kitchen and grabbed an extra cup, but replaced it as he realized Thorin's thick fingers wouldn't properly grasp the handle; at this thought, he couldn't help but wonder since when he paid attention to fingers. He bit back the thought that perhaps it was only Thorin's fingers.

With a heftier mug in hand, he returned to his living room, to find Thorin's features bronzed by the glowing fire as the dwarf sat in an armchair and looked around the room.

"It was hard to see how nice of a place you had when it was filled with sloppy, boisterous dwarves," Thorin noted. Bilbo shuffled over and sat in the other arm chair.

"I kind of liked it with that style. Dwarves are splendid decor- they put more life in the home than these old books and kettles."

Thorin grinned. "Perhaps I'll visit more often, if that's alright with you."

Privately, Bilbo wished him never to leave, but knew that was stupid of him. Of course Thorin had to leave eventually- he had a kingdom to run, he needn't a hobbit to worry about on top of that.

"Alright? Oh, yes, more than alright; you can visit as often as you'd like," Bilbo managed to say, hoping he didn't sound like as much of an idiot as he thought. Since when did he have this much trouble talking to Thorin? He'd always been close to Thorin, able to share a private word, or- but then, it was the memories of that that had built Thorin up in his head over the lonely months in the Shire. He knew Thorin was likely thinking about his kingdom or, worse, providing an heir, but Bilbo had spent a lot of time thinking of Thorin.

"Or you could come back to the mountain," Thorin suggested. "You seem lonely here."

Bilbo shook his head. "I'm not terribly lonely- only at night, when I remember the long nights sitting up by the fire, telling tales or hearing them. It's just not the same here; there's a liveliness about dwarves, and there's a liveliness about hobbits, but it's not the same liveliness."

"And what, do you think, is the difference?"

Bilbo looked over at Thorin. They locked eyes, hazel and grey, and Bilbo's mouth quirked to the side and back into place. "I'm not sure, r-really. Something about the way I could be myself without making the room fall still."

"And dwarves fell still?"

"No- hobbits did."

At his words, the room, naturally, fell still. Bilbo looked over at the fire. Steam shot from the kettle as it began to whistle, and he leapt up, surprised at letting himself forget about the tea. He poured two mugs and handed Thorin his, but was surprised to see the dwarf standing. Bilbo's eyes followed Thorin's hand as the dwarf set down the mug, and then took Bilbo's and set it down as well, next to his on the mantle. Thorin turned to Bilbo, and the hobbit was more than aware of their proximity.

"I've missed you, Master Burglar," Thorin murmured, his voice soft and his grey eyes given new depth with emotion. Bilbo's heart quickened even more, if that were possible.

"I-I've missed you, too," Bilbo said, barely more than a whisper. Thorin's hand cupped Bilbo's cheek, and the hobbit stared into the dwarf's eyes. Was this happening? Was-?

Thorin came closer, eyes closing, and Bilbo's eyes closed expectantly. They fluttered open for a brief heartbeat as the dwarf's nose brushed his, and then lips were on his, in a short, sweet kiss. It was followed by another, and Bilbo's hands landed on Thorin's hips as the dwarf's hand moved to Bilbo's hair. Their lips moved apart and Thorin rested his forehead on Bilbo's, lips still parted as they looked into each other's eyes.

"I've missed you," Thorin repeated. Bilbo responded by pressing his lips back to Thorin's. It was new, and it was strange, and it was something he hadn't admitted he wanted- but, oh, it was everything he wanted. Everything he needed. He pressed closer to Thorin, feeling the dwarf do the same as their lips danced, and Thorin gripped him tightly as Bilbo's hand found the back of his neck.

This time, they didn't part for a while, only standing in front of Bilbo's fireplace locking lips, pressing close to each other. When they finally did part, Bilbo buried his head in Thorin's neck and held him for a long time.

"I've missed you, too." 


	2. He Will Watch - Kiliel,Bagginshield

**A/N: Contains heavy theme of death. Post-BOTFA happenings, following true to the movie/book (because I apparently hate happiness).**

The cavern was warm.

Tauriel wanted to say it was uncomfortably so, but she knew she only felt so because grief seemed so cold. The dwarves all bowed respectfully as she passed, led by one to the grave hall. They approached the large doors, and the dwarf bowed and remained outside as Tauriel passed through, closing them behind her.

It was a hall built for kings- it seemed too gaudy for Kili, but she felt he deserved no less either. Tombs lined the hall vertically, great stone tombs with the geometric bronze patterns likened to dwarven taste. She stepped slowly among the tombs, glancing at the labels, written in the old dwarven language, until she came to Fili's. She paused by it, knowing his death must have all but killed Kili before that blasted orc got near him. She pressed her hand to the warm stone for a mere heartbeat, and then took one step forward. She now stood in front of the tomb.

Deep down, she knew it was only a stone box and a collection of bones- a pretty box with pretty patterns, but no life held within; yet, as she pressed her palm to the stone, she felt his presence. It was as if just there, on the other side of the tomb, he was pressing back. Her forehead touched the warm stone, and she leaned into it. The tip of her nose touched as her other hand came up, and she pressed her chest to the tomb as if her heart could somehow beat life back into his.

She could hear his voice say her name, could remember the warmth of his eyes, the coy nature that had charmed her. She breathed in deeply, and for a moment caught the faintest whiff of his scent- dwarven earth, stone, more than a hint of whiskey; a short cough of a laugh escaped her lips.

"I know you still watch," she whispered, "I know it's crazy for me to believe so, but I do. Someday, I'll join you in the grave- till then, you will watch."

Bilbo sat on the ridge and puffed a smoke ring to the distant mountain, so far now that the horizon faded it away into nothingness. He knew within that it was there, and at its heart rested a dwarf he could never forget. The most noble dwarf he had ever known- and would never see again. Another smoke ring carried from his lips to the breeze, and he felt for a moment that the night carried the distant echo of tankards clanking, robust laughter, and the faint odor of sweat, blood, meat, and ale. He closed his eyes; for a moment, he was back.

Even as the moment ended, the wind shifted direction, and he felt inclined to look up. His eyes landed on the stars, and his eyes narrowed as he seemed to make sense of the stars' scattered positions- he caught the impression of bold cheekbones, a strong chin, dark eyes, long hair, a crown...

"Thorin...?" His whisper was more than a breath, barely more than the instinctual movement of lips and tongue and jaw.

He blinked, and the image was gone. He peered at the stars a moment longer, and shook himself.

"What kind of knock-off stuff is in this pipe?" He said, more to reassure himself than anything else. He stood. "Silly me, thinking that... But it's not impossible; if that journey is possible, anything- no, I'm only fooling myself."

He pocketed his pipe and started home, but as he traveled down the path to Bag End, he felt as though another pair of footsteps walked with him- he knew it was only a feeling, but clung to the idea that Thorin was there. And for the first time since his return, he didn't feel so lonely.

As he reached his door, he paused with his hand on the knob, and his eyes turned back to the horizon, searching for something he couldn't see from here- but regardless, he knew, somewhere back on the Lonely Mountain, or perhaps up in the stars, dwarven eyes looked back.


End file.
